


The Songs and the Words

by pressdbtwnpages



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-22
Updated: 2008-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressdbtwnpages/pseuds/pressdbtwnpages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>When Brendon Urie was a child, he had everything a child could want.</i> A sort-of fairytale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Songs and the Words

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://community.livejournal.com/bandom365/profile)[**bandom365**](http://community.livejournal.com/bandom365/) 3-22-08. Thank you to [](http://wordsaremyfaith.livejournal.com/profile)[**wordsaremyfaith**](http://wordsaremyfaith.livejournal.com/) for beta-ing.

When Brendon Urie was a child, he had everything a child could want. A beautiful mother and handsome father who loved their precocious baby boy as much as any parents ever loved a child.

He had brothers and a sister who also loved him very much, in the way that brothers and sisters love each other, ways that manifest themselves in bumps and bruises more than in declarations but are no less passionate for it.

He had good looks, could play almost any instrument he touched, and was well on his way to being a gorgeous young man.

And then he shoved past a broken-looking young man on the street, spilling the soda the boy clutched all over him. He didn't stop to say "sorry." Now Brendon, he'd had kind of a shitty day at school, gotten a C on a test he'd studied for, his friends were being lame, and so he didn't much think about how he'd affected the boy.

The haggard old woman across the street watching did though. And when Brendon sat down that evening to come up with lyrics to the song he was writing for his sister's birthday, he found he couldn't.

He'd been able to write the night before, a sonnet to a girl who would never read it. And it wasn't half bad. Now, though, everything that came out of Brendon's pen, well, _he_ couldn't think of a word for it, but someone else would have come up with "dreck."

His inability to write had an effect on more than just his social life. Every school assignment grew more difficult, taking twice as long as it should have. And Brendon grew more and more disillusioned, more and more frustrated. Soon the only class he took pleasure from was Band. And so, when one day a classmate invited him to audition for his band, Brendon leapt at the chance. Once he was assured that he would not have to write.

"Oh no, Ryan handles all the writing," Brent promised.

Ryan, it turned out, vaguely reminded Brendon of someone. If he'd been paying attention the afternoon his writing ability vanished, Brendon would have recognized Ryan as the young man he so cruelly mistreated.

If Ryan recognized Brendon, he gave no indication.

Brendon was admitted into the band and it wasn't long before his bandmates realized that he had, if not the voice of an angel, at least that of a minor saint.

The band flourished at the expense of Brendon's family. His beautiful mother's heart broke at the idea of her precocious child sleeping in the backs of vans, and his handsome father was disappointed by his baby boy's impractical choices. His siblings had their own lives and couldn't really be bothered one way or the other.

Brendon's band became his family, comforting him in the nights where he could not afford to eat and pay rent, supporting him when he had to work long hours and cut back on practices.

If during this time, between offering Ryan space on the mattress that served as his bed and trying to graduate from high school, Brendon failed to notice his writing ability slowly returning, well, that was certainly understandable.

Miracle of miracles, Brendon's luck slowly began to change. His band was offered a recording contract, his family began to forgive him, his album seemed to maybe be a success.

Brendon had everything a young man could want. Best friends, adventure, success, the love and respect of his family, girls everywhere he turned. But not love.

And life wasn't perfectly smooth: Brent didn't deal well with success, Brendon got briefly out of control, but he steadied, everything steadied, and two years after he joined Panic at the Disco, Brendon's life was the best it had ever been. And if sometimes the things he wrote in the journal he had recently started writing in seemed a bit lonely, a bit melancholy, well, that was life, wasn't it? Nothing is ever wholly good or easy.

The band secluded themselves in a cabin to write their next hit record, but everything was a struggle. It felt as if they were all trying to play their instruments underwater, and the lyrics Ryan brought were complicated and overwrought, as if he were trying to overcompensate for something.

Brendon wondered if he couldn't do the writing just as well as Ryan did. Then, remembering the year when even picking up a pen was a struggle, he opted not to voice that particular opinion.

Eventually, Brendon realized that the problem with Ryan was him, and as they were packing their practice space to vacate their cabin sanctuary, Brendon kissed Ryan.

Something magical coursed through Brendon. Something more than blood and hormone and _Ryan_. Brendon's fingers itched to pick up a pen. He settled for spreading them across the small of Ryan's back.

Writing was easier away from the cabin, for everyone, and almost effortless for Brendon. He had always been a talented boy. And when, one night as Ryan crawled into their bed, he asked what Brendon was writing, Brendon felt comfortable enough, pressed against the lean body of his lover, to admit that they were lyrics.

They were _good_ lyrics, Ryan agreed after reading them, and they wound up on the new album.

Brendon had everything anyone could ever want. Amazing friends, a loving family, a vocation that he enjoyed, and of course, true love.

The haggard old woman turned off her stereo with a beautiful smile. Her mission was accomplished.


End file.
